


Broken perfection

by Saskiel



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, So much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saskiel/pseuds/Saskiel
Summary: After the final battle, the warrior of light finds herself changing. Yet she feels more incomplete than ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before I even started writing The color of your soul, I started a different fic, full of my sadness over the end of 5.0 That story is not yet finished and honestly, I am not 100% if I will ever finish it... It is very angsty and it will most likely not have a fluffy happy ending... But I have decided to share it anyway, or what I have right now in any case... 
> 
> So, please, read at your own risk with this being possibly quite angsty. It’s also one huge headcanon (which will start showing in the second or third part)... Also (also, lul) I realize that the start is pretty much using the same words as the actual game, but I just really like them (and hate them with an equal passion) - but it will divert from it soon, so don’t worry.

It started as a whisper. Flashes of memories scattered throughout eons.

Her laughter.

His smile.

Hades’s attacks were ruthless as he fought for his people and with every blow she parried, more memories came. The rest of the heroes, called here across time and space, were oblivious to her turmoil, fighting the monstrosity in front of them. But with each moment, she saw less of that and more of the man he used to be.

“ _Stop_ ,” she said, too weak for anyone to hear, too late for it to matter. The last blow was struck and he fell with a heart-wrenching scream.

She dropped to her knees as the transporting spell reversed, returning the adventurers to their own worlds where they were plucked from to save the First, as well as the Source. Suddenly, she was alone. With barely any time to process what just happened, his voice came from the darkness once more.

“I…will…not…yield,

“Should I surrender this fight, what will become of it all?

“What will become of our triumphs? Our hopes? Our… our despair?

“What of this anguish which yet burns in my breast even after the passing of eons?

“No, no, no! I will not let it all be for naught!”

She watched him manifest again, her body unmoving on the ornate floor as his claws neared. There was a strange peace in her. She gave herself up once for them and she wasn’t afraid to do it again. A small smile appeared on her lips as she closed her eyes.

But then the sky shattered.

Scions came. They came to save her, save their world. Her mind was full of memories of old, but also new ones. She had friends here, people who were depending on her to do the right thing. Rising again, she heard Urianger, beckoning her to strike.

Reaching up, she pulled the gleaming battle-axe out of thin air. The whole world went dark, the weapon she wielded seemingly the only light in the existence.

“Forgive me, my love,” she sent the axe flying.

**

Next time she dared to open her eyes, she saw Emet-Selch standing in front of her, a gaping hole in his torso. Taking off the hood, he moved those few steps to reach her.

“Remember,” he said, raising his arm to wipe the tear running down her face, the intimate gesture only making her crying worse, “remember… that we once lived.”

She wanted to tell him so much. The words were on the tip of her tongue, yet she barely managed to nod. The bitter-sweet smile made her wish they had more time.

When his body shattered, she could only watch the fragments of his existence disperse into the air.

After the last piece faded away, she turned around to the Scions. They were grunting as they stood up, one by one.

“I feel like I will have a headache for weeks,” Thancred said, rubbing his head.

“Tell me about it,” the twins said at the same time, making the rest of the group smile even through the discomfort before they noticed her standing there.

“Are you alright? That hit of yours must have packed a real punch,” Y’Shtola looked around, the lack of ascian’s body not lost on her.

There was a concern on their faces, as well as relief. They did it, again. Saved the day, saved the world. Together they stopped the rejoining from happening, granting life to countless people both on the Source and the First. What everybody wished for, right? So why wasn’t she happy.

“Of course, just a bit tired, you needn’t worry about me,” the hero said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. If they noticed, they didn’t say anything about it.

“Mayhap it’s for the best if we rest in the city before leaving?” Alphinaud offered, only for his sister to snicker something about him not wanting to swim back to the shore.

Eventually, the all agreed that resting within the peaceful city for the night wouldn’t do any harm and the retreated to Amaurot.

**

That night, the warrior of light did not sleep. Claiming she needed some air, she slipped out into the city, walking its wide streets. This really was the perfect replica, Emet didn’t forget a single tree, a single patch of lush grass. Her hand was touching the stone of the building, feeling the smoothed out surface beneath her fingertips. But the humid breeze wasn’t right and looking up to the watery sky ruined any semblance of this actually being true. The air dome above the city held, even though she didn’t need it. Still, she was happy for it. This place didn’t deserve to be so deep below.

Without realizing it, her feet carried her on a familiar route. Only when the voice of the elevator started talking did she notice where she was. “Welcome back, my lady. Do you wish to retire home for the night?”

_Home_.

“I-…Yes, please. Take me up,” she said as she waited for the magic to take its place and lift her to the top floor.

The door slid open, revealing a modest apartment. If she didn’t know otherwise, she would have said that the time itself stopped in here. But this was nothing more than a replica of a memory of a devoted man. She walked across the living room, its window showing the many lanterns of the gleaming city below. Her steps lead her to the bedroom they once shared.

Her heart sank once she looked around. This is where Emet-Selch slept for the past years, maybe decades. The blanket wasn’t folded, unsurprisingly. He always had places to be, something to do, often leaving the fabric as it was after he got up. The walls were lined with books - some she recognized, others she didn’t.

Just standing in a space which he occupied not long ago was hard enough. But it was a picture of her face, her current face, that broke her. The sun was reflected in her eyes and a smile was adorning her lips, capturing a happy moment that she didn’t recall. She never saw herself like this, she doubted anyone did. Anyone but him.

Walking to the bed, smaller now to fit his body better, she buried herself into the blankets. They were cold.

“Why did you leave me here, alone.”

That night, the warrior of light cried herself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The celebrations took nearly a week after their victory, yet to her, it felt hollow. She would laugh with her friends, toast with strangers, but her eyes would never find the one she was looking for. With the scions bound to the First for the time being, she spent most of her days in Amaurot. She spoke with the ghosts of the city, but their conversations never held a lot of meaning. Unless she was ready to discuss the “upcoming calamity”, there wasn’t much to talk about.

She was hoping to talk to Hythlodaeus, but after the day she saw him he was nowhere to be found.

In the night, she would watch the city below from the apartment, how it stretched on the ocean floor, before falling asleep.

It has been five weeks after his defeat when she found a leather journal in the myriad of books. At first, she was hesitant to open it, feeling like an intruder on his thoughts. In the end, curiosity got the better of her. His early entries from the First made her smile, sentences like _I don’t know why I am keeping this bloody thing_ or _This is a waste of time, I could already be sleeping_ quite common. He also talked about the plans with Vauthry. She imagined that not that long ago, her whole body would tremble with rage, earning for his demise. But she was no longer that incomplete version of herself and while his words still didn’t make her happy, she understood them.

Her heart stilled when she reached an entry from a day shortly after her arrival.

_I saw her today. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. When she danced across the battlefield, striking down one sin-eater after another, it almost made me march straight to her and take her away. That’s before I noticed Hydaelyn’s “blessing” all over her soul. The poor thing is broken and has to deal with such a burden, making it flicker like mad. Even with her here, my plans need to stay the same, the goal is almost within my reach. I shall keep an eye on her, though._

Emet knew. Right from the start, he knew who she was and he let her hate him. If only he told her. But would she believe him?

_Her presence continues to perplex me. There are moments when her soul seems to start filling in the cracks after the split, but then it stops. In all the history I’ve never seen anything like this happening. But then again, she always was special. To keep her close, I’ve offered the scions my co-operation. After all, it doesn’t matter what they do, I can always start anew after I deal with them. They should be grateful to have her with them. Fools. If it weren’t for that wretched Hydaelyn._

Her eyes were rushing over the words, feeling a bit closer to him, even if it was just a fleeting illusion. It was all that she had. This diary and the city he made.

**

After averting the calamity, the lives of all scions became calmer, for the time. With no big threat on the horizon, they all got to focus on themselves. Which wasn’t always a good thing.

“There’s something… different about you now,” Y’Shtola said as her milky eyes focused on the warrior of light.

It was one of the regular meetings that they decided on. Currently, they were sitting in the Crystarium, each nursing a goblet of their chosen poison, all of them thinking the same. That there is nothing to discuss. Nothing, until now, it would seem. Ryne turned her head towards the hero, her eyes observing things invisible to the rest.

“I don’t see anything wrong with her,” the younger girl shook her head.

Y’Shtola tapped her fingers on the wooden surface of the round table. “Tell me, do you feel any different?”

“If you mean tired of these meaningless meetings, then yes,” the warrior remarked.

The thaumaturgist narrowed her eyes, clicking her tongue in evident displeasure, but stayed silent.

The hero sighed deeply. Now that all heads were turned in her direction, she saw no point in staying here if she was to be the new hot topic. The chair scraped on the floor as she stood up, announcing she was going home.

“That _city_ is not your home,” Thancred said. Ryne cast him a glance, begging him not to press the matter, but he ignored her. “You’ve been spending days after days there, doing Twelve knows what. Why? Why do you dwell on that ascians dead so much?!”

The room held their breath as they saw her stop, the hand that was already on the handle falling to her side.

“You would dare question _my_ loss? I did what you asked me to,” turning around, there was a fury written on her face, “I carry their blood on my hands. Those who we cared for eons ago! Yet you, Thancred, of all people, think _you_ can tell me what I should feel like?!”

“That is not what he meant-”

“I don’t care what he meant or didn’t, Alphinaud! He is dead, all of them are dead but you are alive! What more do you want from me?! Haven’t I suffered enough?!” Her scream filled the space. None of the scions have ever seen such an outburst from her, so when Ryne gasped, they assumed she was taken aback by the display.

“You are free to come to Amaurot if you wish to. I will help you in your time of need. But do not presume me to be Hydaelyn’s little dog. No longer.”

When no one objected, the warrior of light took her leave.

**

“I saw it now,” Ryne said with a timid voice, looking at Y’Shtola, after they were sure the hero was out of earshot.

“What are you talking about?” It was a question that plagued all of them, yet it was Alisae who voiced it.

Ryne glanced at everyone around the table before fixating on Y’Sthola once more. The latter gave her a subtle nod.

“I am not sure how to describe it. Her aether, or her soul if you will, seems to be… older. But also not? There is a heaviness that wasn’t there before,” the girl shook her head. “It is confusing.”

“So, what are you saying, that is not her anymore?”

“It is her. Yet it isn’t,” Ryne frowned, clearly trying her best to explain what she saw.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Urianger,” Thancred spoke for the first time after raising his voice at the warrior of light.

Ryne sighed. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I am sorry.”

When they left the meeting that night, the words of the hero weighted heavy in their minds.


End file.
